She opened the door. "Come in. We're
all right, but wet. Don't step in the pans."
As he entered, with eyes a little dazzled by the candle, Carrie, wrapped
in a shawl, rose from the bed. "Oh, I'm glad to see a man! Wasn't it
terrible?" Pans were set about the room to catch the dripping water. The
little shanty, usually so orderly and cheerful, looked dishevelled and
desolate.
Estelle laughed and said, "I tried to save the chickens, and I nearly
blew away myself."
Her cheeks were flushed, and her wet hair streamed down her back. She
was barefooted, a fact which she tried to conceal by leaning forward a
little.
"It was very good of you to come over," she went on, more soberly, in
the pause which followed. "We were scared; no use denying that, but we
were too busy to dwell upon it. The wind took the tarred paper off the
roof and let the rain through everywhere. It was the most exciting
experience of our lives."
She was more breathless and girlish than she had ever been in his
presence, and he grew correspondingly secure.
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